


Thief of Hearts

by raging_fire



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: AU, F/M, Kissing, Sexual Tension, Sword Fighting, lots of banter cause it's nessian we're talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 00:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17376476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raging_fire/pseuds/raging_fire
Summary: AU where Nesta is the daughter of a wealthy governor and Cassian is a thief unlucky enough to try and steal from her house during a ball. The last thing he expected was to bump into a highborn lady who has a great aim with daggers.





	Thief of Hearts

The bejewelled dagger landed a hair's breadth away from the man's head, making him freeze.

" _What in the rutting hell do you think you're doing?!"_

Startled by either her sudden appearance or the dagger that almost embedded itself in his skull, the cloaked man dropped the bag full of jewelries and coins. They clinked as they splayed on the red carpet and Nesta recognised a few necklaces and bracelets. They belonged to her.

Unsheathing another dagger hidden under her rather stuffy dress, Nesta gripped its hilt and neared the intruder. His hood was on and a red scarf covered the lower part of his face. The colour was a bit conspicuous, but perhaps not all thieves were necessarily bright. Slowly raising himself from where he crouched by her open comforter, the man surveyed her, then the glinting dagger she kept pointed in his direction.

"That was a lucky shot, but let's not risk it again. I'd prefer to leave with my head intact, if you'd please."

"I most certainly do not!" Nesta protested, stepping closer. "How dare you steal from me? How did you even get in?!"

The man gestured to the window of her bedroom, which he must've closed.

"Wasn't that hard, to be fair. All of your guards are drunk. Now if you'll excuse me, fair lady, I have some other manors to visit by the end of the night."

Just as he bent to pick up his bag full of treasure, Nesta threw her dagger once more.

This time, it crested the side of his face, cutting through his scarf, before landing in the wall. Droplets of blood fell on his cheek.

"Care to rethink your response, _thief?_ "

Then, as if it was just a game, the man raised a gloved hand to his face and pulled down his scarf, then his hood.

Nesta could swear that the air whooshed out of her lungs, though part of her blamed it on the too-tight corset. He had dark, wavy hair caught in a messy bun and depthless, bemused eyes that stared right back at her. When he gingerly touched the cut on his stubble-covered cheek and found blood leaking from it, a smirk adorned his chiseled face. Damn it.

That he was pleasing to look at was an understatement. He was, without doubt, the most handsome man Nesta had ever beheld, and it repelled her.

"Your aim is quite spectacular. I wasn't aware that nowadays ladies also take up dagger-throwing classes. What else? Archery? Swordplay? Can you also fire a gun?"

"Come closer if you wish to find out," said Nesta in a haughty voice. "I promise I'll draw more blood next time."

"Will you?"

The man took a casual step towards her, then another. The knot in her throat made it harder and harder to properly breathe.

"You look like the sort of woman who'd kill a man and then make herself a cup of tea," he observed, tilting his head like a curious feline.

"Don't be stupid. I wouldn't personally make the tea. That's what servants are for."

When he was close enough that Nesta could probably attempt to knee him if things got out of hand, the man chuckled.

"I heard that the eldest daughter of Governor Archeron is a she-devil, but I didn't know that she could also fight."

"Why take such a big chance and steal right from under his nose? You're either pretty brave or pretty dumb."

"Because everyone is so busy downstairs with the annual Christmas ball that no one would pay any attention to the upper levels. Except for you, it seems."

True. Nesta got bored at her father's ball; they all became dull after some time. The women were knee-deep into gossip and the men were either trying to find themselves a suitable match or drinking themselves into oblivion. Her father was well-known in their city and had lots of influential friends and partners, all of them being present tonight. Nesta had no intention to mingle with them more than she had to.

"I have a sixth sense when it comes to thieves and criminals. What is your name?"

Nesta's heart dropped a little when the man reached under his cloak and pulled two short swords. He threw one towards her and only years of secret practice with one of her father's guards made her catch it before it caused any damage. It was surprisingly light and simple, the end of the blade pointy enough that it could surely pluck out an eye without any difficulty.

"Disarm me and I shall tell you."

"Are you mad? I'm not going to--"

The man lunged without hesitation. Nesta side-stepped and blocked the hit, then moved until she was out of his way.

"You _are_ mad!"

"Is that all you've got? Come on, sweetheart, give me something better than this."

He swung the sword in his hand before he attacked again. This time, Nesta was prepared.

Steel rang as their swords clashed above their heads. Biting back a cry of outrage, Nesta stepped as hard as she could on his foot and hit him in the temple with the hilt. The man groaned in pain, bending forward, murmuring a few swear words.

"Tired already?"

Nesta made to bind his sword with hers and disarm him in one fluid motion (one useful movement she learned from the guard) but he was prepared. He blocked her attack with ease, straightening himself as he met each and every one of her thrusts with a wide grin. They parried like that until Nesta managed to ruin the posts of her bed, the curtains and a few glass decorations in her anger.

He, on the other hand, seemed to have a blast at her display of wrath. He stayed on the defensive, barely advancing, pulling back his hits whenever Nesta gave him the opportunity to strike back. It was child's play for him.

It made her even angrier.

She moved the point of her blade around his and punched him as hard as she could in the face. Her left hand wasn't as skilled at throwing punches as her right one, but it made him lose focus enough that Nesta managed to cut his arm deep enough that blood trickled out.

The man looked at the new wound in wonder, then at her.

" _Now_ we're talking."

He repositioned himself, gripping the hilt of his sword until the knuckles turned white.

"Let's play."

Grinding her teeth as hard as she could, Nesta met all of his now-hard blows as they circled each other around the room. It was quite hard to keep up with that stupid, useless ball dress, but she wouldn't let it become a disadvantage.

"Your footwork's not right. There needs to be more distance between you and your opponent, otherwise they can do this," he twirled the blade and slightly grazed her corset, right underneath her heart, "and you're dead."

Nesta furrowed her eyebrows, panting slightly. Was he giving her lessons now?

The man took a step back, then pointed with the sword at his feet.

"Position them like this. Footwork gives you a balanced centre from which you can lunge, attack, parry of retreat. You also have to analyse your opponent's footwork, so you can select your own. Assess them, then you can identify how close you need to be in order to hit them and how quickly you can retreat if your intuition was wrong. There's no room for mistakes."

Nesta imitated his footwork, slightly repositioning her body to match his posture.

"How do you know all of this?"

A wide grin bloomed on his slightly-bruised face.

"I've had my fair share of adventures. Now attack."

So she did.

Keeping her distance, like he suggested she do, but striking true and fast. Her blood sang at the sound their swords made when they met mid-air, sometimes so close to her or his face that adrenaline rushed throughout her body. Nesta always loved swordplay and any other physical activities. She went on daily rides with her mare in the woods, galloping fast as the wind, enjoying the cold wind against her face. Archery was also fun, but she couldn't practice it often because people might find out. And who would want to see a girl hold any sort of mortal weapon? Their society wanted them to knit, sing, write pretty poems and bat their eyelashes. Only spread their legs when they were told to, more often out of duty than love. They had little freedom or room for fun or adventure.

Nesta had very little interest in conforming with their society's norms, but for the sake of her sisters, she had to keep up appearances.

"Let your mind wonder and you'll find yourself like this."

Nesta's breath hitched as the man blocked her swing and held his sword at her throat.

Holy burning hell.

"You do have a few good moves, I'll admit. How come a lady like yourself can hold her own with a sword?"

Up close, the man's dark eyes were full of glee and life. A thief, yes, but not a murderer.

"You never know in what situation you might find yourself with," she panted, not daring to lower her gaze.

His smirk was almost feral. Wild and strange, that's how Nesta would describe him. He probably thought that he'd intimidate her, but found himself standing face to face with a lioness. One who wasn't afraid to bite.

They were close enough that if Nesta took half a step towards him, their lips would brush, but that would also mean that she'd slit her own throat. His dark gaze fell on her rising chest, taking her in, then slowly made his way up to her red-painted lips, then her eyes. Nesta could swear his amusement faded a bit.

"You're a skilled fighter, but I won this round."

_Oh, is that what you think?_

Nesta's mouth curled into a smile that was anything but sweet or demure. His throat bobbed and the grip on his sword lightened visibly.

Then, with a touch light as a feather, Nesta reached between them and pressed her palm against his chest. He went still at her touch, heart beating faster and faster, confusion and excitement shining in those wondrous eyes that seemed to lure her in. Despite her slight fascination with him and how fast her heart started beating when she felt those muscles underneath her fingertips, Nesta didn't lose focus.

"Earlier I said that you're either pretty brave or pretty dumb for breaking in here," she said in a hushed tone, daring to lean in. "I think it's obvious what you are."

"Pretty brave?" the man answered, voice tight.

Nesta clasped his shirt, digging her nails in. All his defence vanished in a heartbeat.

"Pretty dumb," she said dryly before kneeing him in the balls.

Shouting in outrage and dropping his sword, the man kneeled at her feet, swearing worse than a sailor. Nesta looked down at him, head bowed and hissing in pain, and laughed.

Now that's what she called a fun evening. The ball downstairs couldn't even come close to it.

"That's what you get for playing with fire and for even attempting to steal from me."

Nesta stepped around him and opened her window.

"Now leave before I decide to finish what I started."

It took him a few more seconds to come around, but when the man rose from the ground and ran a hand through his messy hair, he started howling.

 _Loud_.

That irked her ego more than she'd care to admit.

"You're quite a handful, aren't you, Nesta Archeron?" he asked between laughs. "You truly are a she-devil. God help any man or woman who decides to cross you."

"Why the hell are you still here? Do you have a death wish?"

"I'm intrigued," he admitted, walking lazily towards the open window. He didn't dare pick up the bag full of jewellery. "A woman who manages to literally bring me to my knees is bound to have my interest. And when I'm interested, I'm also relentless."

All rational thought left Nesta's mind as the nameless man inched closer, a look of challange on his face.

"I should let you know that I am very, _very_ keen on you, lady Nesta."

No matter how hard she tried to deny it, Nesta found it exhilarating -- all the men she knew were highborn pricks, unable to think of her as something else rather than an asset, something they could own. No one looked at her like she was an equal, a worthy opponent.

Truth to be told, given her reputation, no one looked at her at all.

But this _thief_ , this stranger...

 _Be still, my heart,_ she told herself.

"You should go."

It sounded more breathless than she intended. Damn her and her useless nerves.

Sensing her uneasiness, the man's amusement flared.

" _Now_."

"Alright, I'll go."

The cold wind blew out all the candles except a few by the door, casting the room in shadows. If someone walked in right now and saw them together... Oh, that would cause quite the scene. A part of her wanted to see her father have a heart attack because of it, though her sisters wouldn't be too grateful.

The man picked up his discarder sword, then made to take the one she placed on her comforter. Nesta clicked her tongue.

"I think not. I rather like that sword, so I'm keeping it. You can take the dagger I almost beheaded you with, if you wish."

With a shaky hand, Nesta took the dagger still impaled in the wall and extended it towards him. It was worth a small fortune, with all the rubies and emeralds. He'd fetch a good price for it.

He eyed it with a raised eyebrow, then sheathed his own sword.

"I'd rather have something else."

Nothing, absolutely nothing could've prepared Nesta for what happened next.

Fast as quicksilver, the man pulled her to him by the waist and tipped her chin back. There was such quiet in her head, yet her heart beat so loud that probably even the guests downstairs could hear. She thought that he would kiss her, but instead of doing that, he leaned his forehead against hers, noses bumping together.

It was like they were suspended in time. Both of them were breathing heavily, as if they had just finished fighting, neither sure of what to do next.

As he gently traced his fingers across her neck, the touch so simple yet so awakening, Nesta's eyes shuttered. He made no move to kiss her, but when those fingers dipped to her collarbones, the movement almost reverent, she really, really wished that he did. Who knew such strong hands could also be so gentle?

_He's a thief, you caught him looting your room! Don't you dare kiss him!_

Nesta used all of her restraint not to touch him back, feel the hardness of his muscles, run her fingers along his prominent jawline and then get tangled in his hair. She felt delirious. And when he parted enough for his mouth to reach her ear, his warm, broad hand resting on the crook of her neck, heat pooled in her core.

"If I dare steal a kiss, will you knee me in the balls again?"

The pang of pride vanished as soon as he nibbled her earlobe, earning an unexpected whimper from her.

Holy burning hell.

Nesta's toes curled in her shoes as he did it again, then grazed the side of her neck. His arms circled her waist and backed her against the wall, their bodies lightly touching, sparks flying at the slightest contact. And when his tongue came out to play, just below her ear, Nesta covered her mouth and gripped his shoulder tight enough that it might've bruised.

It was like being on fire, burning brighter than ever. Her head lolled back, exposing more of her throat, inviting him in.

"Are you brave enough to try and find out?" Nesta managed to say.

That was all he needed to hear. Nesta could almost feel his smile before those hot lips closed against a sweet spot on her neck, sucking it, then moving lower and lower until he reached her chest. All the while, Nesta thought she was going to faint. When she couldn't take it anymore, her hands pulled him closer, needing the pressure, the friction. A low moan left her lips when he bit her again, then lazily licked the spot, blowing cold air onto the wound.

"Who knew such a wicked mouth could also make such delicious noises?" he remarked as he pressed a kiss on her cheek, then another closer to her mouth. Nesta's core was molten and her knees threatened to buckle any second now.

"Don't flatter yourself too much," was her reply, though his effect on her body was so damn obvious.

"You are _exquisite_ , Nesta Archeron."

As he whispered those words, he kissed the corner of her mouth, then pulled back to search her face. His features were softer, more vulnerable. There was no arrogance to be found; only desire and fascination.

Oh, to hell with her restraint.

Raising slightly on her tiptoes, Nesta kissed him without a second thought.

It was a miracle her heart didn't explode from how fast it was thumping. His hands gripped her waist tighter before giving in to the kiss completely; it was slow and curious at first, but when Nesta pushed her hips into his and dragged her nails across the side of his neck, his leash snapped.

His hands moved from her waist to the back of her thighs and lifted her like she weighted nothing, skirts and all, before pinning her to the wall. Nesta's legs circled his waist, her arms around his neck, as their lips moved against each other's with burning passion that threatened to undo her.

It was hard not moan against his lips when his hips grounded into hers, taking advantage of the opportunity to brush his tongue against hers and deepen the kiss. Her head was spinning and even breathing became difficult but Nesta felt so alive, so very, very alive for the first time in her life. The raw pleasure she felt when he pressed into her, fingers digging in the back of her thighs, kissing her like it was the end of the world, was so new that her body sang for _more more more_

If only that moment could've lasted forever.

High-pitched voices sounded from the end of the hall, meaning that either her drunk sisters were making their way towards her room or some lost ladies were searching the bathroom. Either way, she had to stop before it was too late.

It was an effort to pull back and look into his eyes, now wholly dark. His lips were red, both from her smeared rouge and from all the kissing, and his chest was rising rapidly.

He looked like the painting of a wicked angel Nesta once saw in a museum. Parting from his arms was the last thing she wanted, craving more of his touch, but she couldn't risk it. Not now.

"You should go before anyone comes in," she managed to say as he carefully put her down, yet his arms remained on her waist. "It won't end well for you."

"And what about you?" he grinned, planting another kiss on her lips, then another.

"They'd wish they had never stepped in this room in the first place. Now go."

Nesta pulled him towards the window and made sure that no one was in the gardens to see him escape. When she was about to announce that it was all clear, he managed to steal another kiss from her.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, this won't be the last you've seen of me."

"Don't threaten me like that. I've had enough for a night."

Pulling back on his hood, the man climbed out of her window, then turned one last time towards her.

"I meant every word of what I said. I'm not one to give up too easily."

Nesta crossed her arms, but the warmth she felt made her giddy.

"Go before I push you to your death."

"As my lady wishes," he bowed his head, then winked. "Also, my name is Cassian. You should know the name of the one who will soon steal your heart."

Before Nesta could throw something at him, he disappeared into the night, stealthy and silent as a shadow.

When she was finally alone and her windows were tightly shut, Nesta almost threw herself on her bed and let out a long sigh.

_Cassian._

This night turned out far more interesting than she'd thought.

Perhaps he didn't end up steal any objects from her, but he sure did steal more than just a few kisses.

 


End file.
